Freed, Again
by Jacqueline Roan
Summary: This story begins within the book 'Fifty Shades Freed', after Anastasia informs Christian that she is pregnant. His response, angry and accusatory, forces Ana to consider all of her options and take action. WARNING: Readers offended by characters considering pro-choice options should not read. Thank you to those who read and all reviews welcomed and appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

Christian slammed the front door of the penthouse, not even glancing at my pathetic self as he strode out.

_I am abandoned._

I am standing sock-footed on the frigid, shiny, imported tile in my heather grey leggings, oversized WSU sweatshirt, my dark locks dancing when my world implodes.

_It would have taken __**so little**__ to make me happy. He has managed to make this crisis all about him. Not the baby, not me, but him, the megalomaniacal Christian Grey. _

I fully expected a strong reaction from him. Shock. Panic. Disbelief. Bewilderment. Anxiety. A mild freak-out. Anything in this spectrum would have been understandable. But he berated me! His anger, belittlement and his accusation that I got pregnant on purpose is so beyond any response I imagined. Each word that spewed from his mouth branded an indelible, gruesome scar on my soul-flesh.

It hurts to breathe. Instinctively, I fold my arms across my chest, dazed by his assault, and begin to walk slowly through the apartment.

_Did he give credence to what Carrick intimated when encouraging him to have me sign a prenuptial agreement? Did Christian ever __**know**__ me? Did he ever __**trust**__ me?_

At the big window in the great room, I gaze outward. My focus vacillates. At times I see the city, the horizon and the world beyond his _Ivory Tower_ which is the Escala penthouse. At other times, I am afflicted with acute myopia and cannot see anything but my ephemeral reflection in the glass: a knocked-up, ragamuffin misfit Millennial, who drastically changed her way of life over the past four months to conform to what a man, _this man_, wanted me to be.

_But I was happy, right? And he was, too. He was. And there I go again … putting myself down. I know how much it irritates Christian when I do that. And Flynn had picked up on my inferiority complex in our session. Dammit! I have to stop this and get my head together. I have got some serious decisions to make. _

In the kitchen, I tear a paper towel from the dispenser, dampened it under the sleek, stainless faucet and I wipe the mascara from my cheeks and chin. I blow my nose and throw some water on my face which cools and soothes my tear-scalded skin. I head upstairs to the master bedroom with a bottle of water in hand, which I grab from the well-stocked Sub Zero refrigerator.

Abandonment does not sit well with me.

I flop into the king sized bed, fluff two lofty pillows behind my head and pull the down comforter over me. I reflect upon how quickly everything happened. I decide that our relationship was nothing more than a futile exercise in building a house of cards: each daring the other to pile on one more shingle or construct one more truss. The card represents a change in our respective, separate lives. For a while, the cards are supportive, but eventually the burden overwhelms. The house collapses. I vision myself on my knees, furiously scrambling to reclaim my own deck with him looming over me. The scenario flashes back to how we meet that day in his office. We have come full circle in my mind.

_Ah, the changes we made. And to his credit, he did change, or so it seemed. Christian never dates women or sleeps with any of his sexual partners. I had never even had sex before I met him. Christian is Master of his Universe and never collaborates or compromises with anyone about anything in his personal life, with the exception of his submissive contracts and the hard and soft limits. I, too, make my own decisions and am, or was, very independent. Christian enjoys his BDSM lifestyle. I never knew such a thing exists. Christian has an aversion to being touched, and I have a need to touch him and not worry about causing him agony. And then there is Mrs. Robinson who opened a huge chasm between us. _

I take my hand and place it on the area above my pubic bone, right where Dr. Greene pressed when she was doing my transvaginal sonogram.

_I don't feel anything, not a micro-baby bump or the feeling of impending motherhood. Nothing. I am numb. _

After leaving Dr. Greene's office, I allowed myself to imagine a little boy with the wild hair full of shiny glints of copper and gray eyes or a lovely, dark headed, doe-eyed princess. I thought, foolishly, that Christian might even be excited after the surprise waned. He would excitedly call Grace and Carrick, and proudly proclaim that they would be grandparents soon. He would fall to his knees and kiss my belly and talk to his …

_No! Stop it! I won't go there. I am not going to allow him to make me cry again. I must stay focused and make a decision … one that would never cause me to look back and wonder. I won't be afflicted with the 'what ifs' for the rest of my life._

Raise the child by myself. Christian made it crystal clear that he does not want this baby. I won't saddle him with a child that he doesn't want. More importantly, I won't allow a child of mine to perceive that their existence is anything but cherished. My child will know that he or she was longed for and that he or she is special. My tendencies toward low self-esteem are caused, in part, by my long-held belief that my mother was not ready to take on the responsibility of motherhood when became pregnant with me. I was somewhat of a burden to her. She loves me, but, she wishes her life had been different and her dreams had not been curtailed by diapers and debt.

My assessment of Christian's capacity to love had been erroneous. Based on his reaction to the news, I can foresee him shunning and disowning our baby. Carrick, being the conspiracy theorist that he is, will view this baby as a pawn in some kind of twisted scheme to extract money from Christian.

_That repulses me! Damn them all! Fuck the Greys and their fortunes! No amount of money can buy them compassion and humanity. I pity them!_

Christian's celebrity, if you want to call it that, complicates the proposition of raising our child on my own. The internet has made privacy non-existent and there would come a time when someone, perhaps a down-an-out family member, confidant or amateur sleuth would sell a story to a tabloid: 'Billionaire business tycoon abandons son/daughter before birth. Child marginalized by meager upbringing. Details inside.'

I cannot put a child through such rejection, exposure and ridicule.

Adoption. I have had several friends who were adopted by some wonderful families. I admire women who can selflessly relinquish their children to loving homes when they know they cannot provide what the child needs. For the most part, I think adoption is a wonderful thing. Deserving people who would otherwise remain childless are given the opportunity to raise a child as their own. Society promotes adoption as a good thing. I believe that potential adoptive parents are put through a rigorous screening process. A few bad apples slip through the cracks, but, nobody vets biological parents. It would seem that adopted children are more likely to end up in a loving, stable household.

However, I do know that there are still some vestiges of discrimination against adopted children. It seems so archaic, the concept of a 'bastard child', as though the sins of the father may truly be revisited upon the child.

A college friend of mine came to me once, distraught, when she found out that she was not eligible for membership in well-known women's organization because she could not trace her _bloodline_ back to the Revolutionary War, even though her adopted parents could, in fact, prove such lineage. She also found out that she was excluded from consideration for some scholarships, because she was adopted. I did my best to comfort her as she explained that she felt as though she was in 'identity limbo'. She hadn't made any of the choices about her adoption, yet, she was the one who was paying the consequences. The friend related that she felt childlike and slighted as a human being.

Knowing myself, I am certain that I could never be at peace relinquishing my baby to be raised by others. I would constantly ruminate about my baby and if it was a loving and nurturing adoptive home or if my child had been one of the rare adoption horror stories. Even children placed in loving homes struggle with thoughts about why they were given up and why their birthparents didn't want them. Again, it would be next to impossible to maintain anonymity in the adoption process. After all, I am _Mrs. Christian Grey_ and the media is relentless.

I know the way I am leaning. The thought scares me. I have not known anyone, personally, who has ever had an abortion.

_I want Kate. But, I can't tell her. She is too unpredictable … even if I swear her to secrecy; Kate always comes up with ways to rationalize not keeping my confidences when she thinks she is acting in my best interest. She loves me. She would not be judgmental, but, I can't tell her this._

I need to leave. I cannot stand to be in his home another day. I have no idea where he went or when (or if) he will return. I don't even care. I just want to be free from him.

My Blackberry is on the nightstand. I pick it up and begin to scroll through my contacts, heading for his number. He was so sweet before I got married and assured me that he would always be here if I needed him. Perhaps he saw something that I didn't.

Before I call Jose', I think better of it, remembering Christian's penchant for spying. I locate my laptop in my briefcase. I shoot off a short email, telling him that I am okay and not to be alarmed. I ask him if I can stay with him in Portland for a little while. I also warn him not to phone me, but to reply by email.

He did, quickly. He told me that I was always welcome to stay with him.

I then respond by apologizing, and asking him if it would be possible for him to pick me up in Seattle. I assure him that I will fill him in with all of the details when he gets here. I ask him not to tell his father, as I don't want Ray to know until he is stronger.

_When I do finally tell Ray the unabridged version of events … Katie bar the door. He will surely whip Christian's young ass to a pulp. Ray never had a trainer teach him kick boxing. He got his grit from working for a living and from being in the Army. _


	2. Chapter 2

I am on my knees in front of the chest of drawers gathering my belongings and putting them in the large leather duffle bag which is stamped with the Grey Enterprises Holding, Inc. logo. I realize that there is almost nothing left of my pre-Christian possessions. The clothing I remove from the drawers was hand-picked by Christian's personal shopper at Neiman-Marcus. I find my neatly folded panties and stuff them in the bag.

_I never knew that a single pair of panties could cost over $150 until Christian insisted that I have the finest La Perla offerings. I bought my panties at the big-box stores … and I liked them. There is so much excess here. I am still uncomfortable with wealth._

I stop my panicky packing as I spy the flashing icon on my desktop, which alerts me to an email in my inbox. It is from Jose':

**I will be in Seattle in about an hour. Shall I come to Escala or meet you somewhere?**

_No, I don't want you coming here, Jose', just in case Christian returns. _

Reflexively, I bite my bottom lip as I think.

I reply to Jose':

**No, do not come to Escala. Let's meet at the coffeehouse two blocks from here. I will be waiting for you.**

I zip the taut duffle bag and put the strap on my shoulder to check the weight.

_It's manageable._

In the closet, I retrieve my … _my …_ old backpack. Pleased to greet a relic of my former life, I give it a quick dusting with my hand. But, actually, it hasn't been that long. It just seems so long ago because of everything that has happened. As I take mental inventory of _the list, _I am forced to re-experience the emotions tied to each happening. It is exhausting and overwhelming.

_-met Christian Grey, CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc._

_-he stalked me … kind of … I think_

_-had sex for the first time ever … have been copulating like lab bunnies ever since _

I feel the pulling of the corners of my mouth, and I involuntarily smile as scenes of the beautiful man invade my mind.

_-Christian revealed his BDSM lifestyle, which was so foreign … and hot/ lots of kinky fuckery _

_-learned about 'Mrs. Robinson' and almost kicked her ass at the Grey's house_

_-met his family/he met mine_

_-graduated from WSU/got a job/moved to Seattle_

_-have owned three new cars … courtesy of Christian_

_-had my ass worked over with a belt/ broke up/beyond devastated/reconciled/he changed and said he doesn't need 'that'_

_-told him that I loved him/he warned me not to_

_-the Leila incidents/ gun pointed at me_

_-attacked by Jack Hyde, 'creepo-extraordinaire'_

_-Christian went missing in Charlie Tango_

I feel a lump in my throat swell and my eyes pool with tears that have not yet fallen. I close my eyes and continue my ruminations.

_-got engaged/fought about vows/married/honeymooned/accidentally went topless on the beach/ Christian enraged_

_-bought home to be renovated on Puget Sound_

_-Ray in an accident/in coma/regained consciousness/moved him to Seattle_

_-Pregnant_

And this is where we are. I am alone and must make a decision. Christian has proved his true nature. I have always been there for him. I have tried to get him to see that he is loved unconditionally by so many and that he is a good man. He always challenges me on that point. He told me that he was a 'husk of a man'. Leila told me that 'Master is dark'. Perhaps they were both right. After all, he is a diagnosed sadist and enjoys hurting women who resemble his biological mother. Well, he has managed to inflict more pain upon me than any cat o' nine tails or cane ever could.

"Stop thinking! There will be plenty of time for that later. Get you things and get out!" my Subconscious admonishes me.

My Inner Goddess is _incommunicado_ while undergoing electroconvulsive therapy treatments.

I continue packing a few more items into the backpack.

_This is where I found the box full of pictures of his subs engaged in various sexual acts in the red room._

The emotions come rushing back.

Even though he explained that it was insurance against blackmail, the thought still turns my stomach. This is not how an honorable man conducts himself. This is not gentlemanly. This is perverse and obscene.

I shake my head as I recognize the unintentional irony of those adjectives.

_Have I become so complacent about some of the revelations about Christian?_

After collecting the last of my toiletries from the bathroom, I sit on the bed and pull on my UGGs. I rise and turn off the light and head for the front door. I am numb with a steely resolve to extricate myself from this life that never felt like mine in the first place. I leave my BlackBerry and MacBook Pro behind.

I get on the elevator and am tormented with the memories of elevator sex. I recall how the buttons left circular impressions in the flesh of my behind after Christian's powerful, animalistic thrusting.

My heart quickens and I swallow.

I decide to get off the elevator at the mezzanine level and take the stairs to the rear exit of the building in order to avoid being seen by anyone, including Christian.

I emerge from Escala and the damp, cool Seattle air awakens my senses. There is less than an hour of daylight left. I pull the pashmina scarf that I am wearing around my neck and readjust my backpack and duffle bag and begin to walk the two blocks to the coffeehouse to meet Jose'. As I pass the market _en route, _I decide to withdraw some money from the ATM. Christian told me once that our debit cards were approved for higher cash withdrawals than normal. I have never had to test that limit before, so I am not sure how much money I can get. I hastily remove my debit card from my wallet and push it into the machine. I enter my passcode and check the balance. A receipt rolls out of the ATM which reveals a balance of $76,433.90.

_ Are you kidding me? That is more than my annual salary. _

I press the button for cash withdrawal from checking account. When prompted for the amount, I see a list of various denominations of cash, and then one for 'maximum cash withdrawal'. I press the button, and momentarily, a stack of crisp one hundred-dollar bills appear, five thousand dollars in cash. Placing the cash and my card in my wallet, I survey the people in the vicinity.

_I have never had that much cash on me in my life before._

I know that if he wants, Christian can access the activity on the account. But, I doubt he cares or would make any effort to try to find me.

I arrive at the coffeehouse and find a bistro table in the middle and I take the seat facing the door. It is rather crowded and a quite noisy, mainly filled with business types just getting off of work, I speculate. I place my bags in the vacant chair. The smell of coffee wafts through shop. I realize that I am thirsty, but, I don't want to leave my things unattended, nor do I want to carry them to the serving counter.

I will wait for Jose' and then grab a bottle of water.

I pick up a copy of the newspaper and begin the scan the front page. I am not really interested in the current events, I am just trying to idle my mind.

After ten minutes or so, Jose' greets me.

"Ana, are you okay?" he places arm around my shoulder and pulls me in for a brief hug.

"I am okay, Jose'. Thank you so much for coming to Seattle for me. Can I get you a coffee or something? I am going to get a bottle of water."

"Sure," he says. "I will have the house blend, black."

Jose' sits in the empty chair and I make my way to the counter.

When I return, I hand Jose' his coffee.

"Jose', do you mind if we leave now?" I ask, with raised eyebrows. He knows me well enough to know that I am uncomfortable and want to get away from the crowd.

"No problem, Ana," he says, rising from the chair.

He leads the way to the door and opens it for me. He is parked near the shop. He opens the tailgate of his Ford Escape and takes my duffle bag and backpack from me, placing them inside. Opening the passenger door, he takes my elbow to steady me as I step in the vehicle. He slides in the drivers' seat, places his coffee in the armrest, turns the ignition and adjusts the heat.

"Nice ride," I say, smiling.

"Thanks, Ana. I had some money left after I sold my photos, so I treated myself to a new car. It isn't an _Audi_, but, I like it," he teasingly smiles, turning to look at me momentarily. Driving toward the interstate, there is silence.

_I don't know if he wants to know, or what I should tell him or if he is just waiting for me to explain, out of respect for my privacy. _

In several minutes, we are on the interstate heading south in moderate traffic.

"I am sorry I asked to leave so quickly from the coffeehouse. You didn't even get a chance to relax after driving from Portland. I would like to buy you dinner. Would you mind if we got out of Seattle and then find a good restaurant?" I ask.

"That would be great, Ana. I know a place about twenty miles from here," he offers.

At the restaurant, we are escorted to a table near the back. It is dimly lit and there are few patrons. We look at our menus.

_I don't think I can eat. My stomach is in knots. But, I have to eat to keep up my strength._

I order chicken Florentine and a dinner salad and Jose' selects the lasagna. I quickly down the glass of water, as I am still thirsty.

"Jose', thank you so much. You know what a dear friend you are to me," I say, glancing up to see the expression on his face.

"I found out that I am pregnant. Christian was not happy, when I told him. As a matter of fact, he was very angry. I have decided to leave Christian, and, I am going to have an abortion. I didn't really have any place else to go. I couldn't tell Kate, because she would be obligated to tell Elliott. I hope you are willing to put up with me for a while. I am not sure where I want to live or what I want to so. I just need a safe, neutral place for now," I say, looking at him with a pleading half-smile.

"Ana, I … don't know what to say," he replies, his eyes widening. "You know that I will do anything for you, but, are you sure that you haven't made this decision in haste? I mean, don't you need to think about it for a while?"

"I know it sounds like a hasty decision, but, it really isn't. I can't tell you everything, but, trust me to know what is right for me, please. You know that I have always felt like my mother was disappointed with how her life turned out, in part, because of me. I know Mom loves me, but, I don't ever want my child to feel that way. I really know that I am not ready to become a mother, let alone a single mother. I have carefully considered of all of my options, and I believe that terminating the pregnancy is the right choice, Jose'. Do you understand?"

"Look, Ana, I want the best for you. I am here for you, you know that. I just think time and distance is good for you now," he says.

"I agree. I don't know what Christian's reaction will be. A part of me believes that he won't care that I am gone, and part of me believes that he might pursue me because having a wife bail after such a short time looks bad on Mr. CEO Grey. So, you might get a call from Christian or Taylor … and, well, I hate to ask you to lie, but,"

"No problem," he interrupts. "You are safe with me and deserve some time away from him. I am sorry, and I don't mean to pry, but you said he was _angry_?"

"He was irate," I answer.

"He didn't hit you or anything, did he?" he asks.

"No, he just yelled and accused me of intentionally getting pregnant," I reply.

"Geez, I am so sorry, Ana. No man should treat a woman like that," he says as he takes my right hand and gives it a quick squeeze. And I know that it is a comforting gesture, nothing more.

Our food arrives and suddenly, I am hungry.


	3. Chapter 3

We pull up to Jose's duplex around ten o' clock. He parks under the carport at the end of the driveway, adjacent to the home. I am drained and I can tell by the way Jose' rolls his head and rotates his shoulders that he is stiff and tired from driving such a long distance. Stepping out into the cool damp air, I fold my arms around my chest. Jose' retrieves my things from the back of the vehicle we walk briskly and abreast to front door of his duplex. He unlocks the deadbolt, and I step inside. It is warm and cozy.

In the living room has a small couch covered in blue and white ticking fabric and some red throw pillows. There is a small fireplace, surrounded by off-white tile and a white mantelpiece. The kitchen is open-concept and is separated by a breakfast bar. Jose' places my things on the carpet and steps toward the kitchen.

"I like your place, Jose'," I say, still taking inventory.

Being back here, in Portland, transports me back to my former life, that of a carefree college student. My worries were so simple then. I juggled a full load of classes at WSU and racked up as many hours as I could at Clayton's Hardware Store, but, I loved my life. Every day was an adventure, and I was in the drivers' seat. It was my life. I, alone, was at the wheel. Granted, my _love life _was non-existent. Kate shared enough details with me about hers, that I was able to enjoy vicarious romances. I smile as I think of Ms. Kavanagh and some of the luscious specimens she wooed.

"Thanks, Ana. I moved in about three months ago and I like it here. The neighbors are a little more mature than in the complex where I used to live," he says as he opens his refrigerator and grabs a bottle of water. "Want one?" he asks, holding the bottle my direction.

"No, thanks, I'm good," I respond as I turn and walk toward the kitchen.

I am momentarily startled by some aberrant movement in my peripheral vision as I near Jose'. Jose' sees my response and smiles and then introduces me to Fabian, a red tabby with a snow white bib. Fabian, perched on top of the breakfast bar, has risen to greet us. He arches his back and bows his head, a silent plea for a scratch behind the ears.

"Aren't you precious?" I say, as my nails divide the fur on his head and I gently stroke him. He responds by sliding his body against my forearm, craving even more human contact. He clearly loves the attention and begins to purr loudly.

I smile at Jose'. "I didn't take you for a cat person," I say as I continue to shower affection on the most grateful feline.

"I didn't either," he responds, "but I found him at a shoot site, and he and his siblings were eating out of a dumpster. The others were feral, but Fab came right up to me. I couldn't leave him there. He was only a few months old."

"That is sweet, Jose'. What a great companion he is," I say, admiringly, the last sentence more to the cat than to Jose'. "Why, Fabian?" I ask, as my curiosity about his unique name gets the best of me.

"Once I got him in the car, I started thinking about what to name him. I had on some quirky oldies channel on XM radio. An upbeat tune was playing, something I had never heard before. So I used an app on my iPhone to identify the song; it was _Hound Dog Man_ by Fabian. So, I decided to name him Fabian."

"Well, the name suits him," I say as I turn to look at Jose'. He is in front of me and appears to be ready to lead me to my quarters. I give Fabian a final scratch under the chin and bid him good night and turn to follow Jose'. The animal lets out a lustful, longing _meow_.

"Jose, I want to pay you for all the gas you used coming to Seattle," I say as I pick up my backpack.

"No way, Ana, I will not take your money," he says with a semi-snort.

"Yes, you must. I know it took a lot of gas to make that trip, not to mention that I probably wrecked your plans for today. I insist, or I won't feel right about it," I retort.

"You didn't wreck any plans and I did this for you because you are my friend. So, let's don't talk about money again." Jose' takes my backpack from me and picks up my duffle bag and leads me down the hall to the spare bedroom.

_Okay, Jose', you might have won the round, but not the fight. I did memorize a few moves from the 'Christian Grey Playbook'. I will just find one of your deposit slips and visit your bank. Ha!_

He leads me down the hall to the spare bedroom. He finds the light switch on the wall and illuminates the room. He sets my things on the bed. The room is tidy and the bed neatly made. It is obvious that Jose' uses this room to store all things related to photography. There are multiple tripods standing near the closet and camera cases hung from hooks that are mounted on the wall. A floor to ceiling bookcase houses uniform black binders that I am certain contain archived photographs. The wall behind the bed is peppered with small framed black and whites that he has taken. The subjects are various aspects of nature. Some are close-ups of interesting rock formations and leaves from different tree species, and others are landscapes, encompassing various shades of grey mountain formations, skies containing contrasting cloud scenes and ocean views.

_What an amazing photographer. Out of the vastness of the world, how does he know what to hone in on? How does he recognize the majesty he has captured in these photos?_

Jose' interrupts my musings and mental inspection of the room. "Ana, my bedroom has a bathroom, so the bathroom off of the hallway is all yours," he gestures to the left. "Is there anything I can get you?" he asks sweetly.

"No, Jose'. This is wonderful. I can't thank you enough for what you have done," I say, as I reach over and give him a quick hug around his neck.

"Okay, then. Good night … oh, um, you might want to sleep with this door closed so that you don't have an uninvited guest tonight," he smiles, and, just for an instant, I am _taken aback_.

_What the Hell?_

I smile awkwardly, "Yeah, I will …," and I see Jose' turn his attention to Fabian, standing in the hallway. He has made a _beeline_ from the kitchen to Jose'. Relieved at the site of the _uninvited guest_, I smile. Jose' turns and gently shuts the door to the room.

My Subconscious is dressed as a schoolmarm, hair pulled back in a tight bun. She stands over me, a ruler in one hand and the index finger of the other pointed directly at my nose. I stand with my head bowed in shame.

_When will I ever completely and totally forgive Jose' over the near-kiss incident? He has apologized. He knows that we will never be more than friends and he has never acted in an inappropriate way since that night. Why can't I give him a break? Why can't I forget that and move on? Oh, God, I hope he couldn't tell that I was confused by what he meant … I don't think he picked up on it because he was too enamored by Fabian. _

I vow to never be suspicious of Jose' again. _It would be so much easier if he were gay_.

I pick up my backpack and begin removing my things.

_It feels so odd not to have my BlackBerry and be ever-vigilant about checking it for missed calls and emails from Christian. I was tethered to that thing! I am amazed that I haven't spent much of the past four hours thinking of him. Is that going to change as the realization sets in over what I have done? Before, when I left, after the Red Room incident, I was physically ill over the separation from him. It was all I could do to get through work without crying. But at this moment, I am not devastated … I am not happy, either, but I feel in control and not dependent upon him and his disposition to determine what kind of day I will have. He was all-consuming. Maybe my emotions, or lack thereof, are purpose-driven._

It was at that precise moment that I recognized that I truly was there: free. I back up to the double bed and sit on the quilted duvet. My head bows and I immediately begin the think about my reason for being in Portland_. _

_I needed time and space, away from him. This new-found feeling of independence is exactly what I was looking for when I left Seattle. I now have it. I am in control of my own destiny. I can make decisions and follow through with them without Christian exerting his smothering influence. He was able to manipulate me so easily. Well, not exactly manipulate, but, I was putty in his hand. The stakes are much higher now, the ante much greater. He made his declaration about the pregnancy and I must respond according to what I know is right for me. Christian will not extinguish me again. I know he is used to getting his way in all things, but, I am the one making decisions for me now. He gave up his right to participate when he acted so abhorrently toward me, when I needed him more than I ever had. I still cannot believe he was capable of treating me that way. I think he is abusive. He is a verbal batterer. Maybe he was meant never to be a parent. If he can abuse his wife, what could he be capable of doing to a child? And what did he do to Leila? Well, things are different now. I will follow through with what I know in my heart is right for me. For the first time in months, I know that Christian Grey cannot shatter my world on an angry whim. What I thought, at one point, would have been my worst day imaginable, cannot occur because I beat him to the punch. I think I did, anyway. I left. Not just for a cooling off period, but, forever. I don't know what his abrupt exit meant or what he intended it to signify. I needed him so badly and he bailed. He doesn't love me and wants no part of the child that we created. And that wasn't the first time that he has rocked my world with his over-the-top ire. I suppose, at times, I was flattered by his jealousy-fueled tirades and secretly bolstered by his furious diatribes he spewed at me over his perceived lack of self-concern I had about my personal safety. How did he manage to make those types of interactions acceptable to me? _

I pause and realize that I am having _flight of ideas_.

Schoolmarm Subconscious is standing behind the lectern with a vertical index finger pressed against her pursed lips.

_Yes, all of your thoughts are valid and there is no point in reliving and ruminating. _

I grab my pajama bottoms, tee shirt and my toiletry bag and make a quick trip to the bathroom. Pulling down the duvet, I crawl beneath the covers and turn off the lamp on the nightstand. As I lie there, not as tired as was when we first got to Portland, I begin to devise a game plan for tomorrow. _I need to buy a TracFone and a laptop. I won't buy another Apple, because of the cost. I really want to stretch the cash out as far as I can. I will probably go with a Dell. I am going to have to talk to Ray. The last thing I want is for him to be worried or for Christian to be the one to tell him anything. I need to think some more about that._

I place my hand over my lower abdomen and try to make the little blip I saw on the ultrasound screen real to me. I am still numb to the potential I have inside my womb. I don't feel it, either physically or emotionally. I know that I have made the right decision and I will proceed as I would with any medical procedure. This is something I have to do in order to move on with my life. After I get my laptop tomorrow, I will begin researching how to proceed and where to go to get an abortion.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, I wake before the alarm clock sounds. It is 6:23 and my first thought is that of Christian. I can't help but wonder if he came home last night to the empty penthouse.

_What kind of chaos did I create by leaving? I wonder if he has all of his security minions out searching the streets of Seattle for me. Or worse … what if he calls the police? I don't want to be a 'missing persons' news story. Is he making phone calls to my friends or raiding SIP offices? _

_That is another thing I am going to have to deal with. What should I do about my job? I am going to have to find a new job when I decide where I want to live. I don't want SIP giving me a bad recommendation because I left without giving notice. I don't want to shirk my professional responsibilities to the authors I work with or to the company, either … even if it is part of Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.. I will need my reputation intact in order to make a living. I had to work hard for my degree and I won't let Christian take my profession away from me. Perhaps I should phone Elizabeth and ask her for a week of leave, due to a personal emergency. But, what do I say if she asks questions? And, I just took off three weeks, which I hadn't even earned, for the honeymoon extraordinaire. This is so complicated! _

_Of course, I could be making some foolish assumptions. Christian might not have even come home last night. He might have gone and found one of the fifteen and resumed his lifestyle. Or, if he did come home, he might have been pleased that I left. Did he call Carrick and tell his father that his suspicions about me were correct? That I had deliberately gotten pregnant in order to get my hooks into him? Why would he think that, though? I volunteered to sign a pre-nup and Christian wouldn't hear of it. How could he have thought I did this on purpose? _

I feel heat rising in my ears as I think and grow angrier. I will have to stop allowing my mind to take control of my emotions. I am on a mission here in Portland and I must follow through. I will have plenty of time to extricate the other parts of my life soon. For now, time is of the essence. The sooner I terminate my pregnancy, the sooner I can pick up my life and move on.

After showering and dressing, I join Jose' in the kitchen. He has made coffee and is pouring himself a mug.

"Good morning, Ana. I am sorry I don't have any English Breakfast Tea, like I know you like, but I have made some coffee, if you'd like a cup."

"You know what, Jose'? I think I will have a cup," I say, thinking that as I start my new life, maybe I should start some new habits, too.

He takes another mug from the cabinet and pours the steaming, cola-colored liquid from the carafe. He slides the mug in front of me. "There is cream and sugar over there," he points to the small butcher block island in front of the refrigerator.

After adequately amending the coffee, take a sip. It is a bit bitter and I can't help but make a face.

Jose' smiles, amused by my reaction to what I find distasteful. "Keep taking small sips. You'll get used to it," he instructs.

I do and he is right. After the fifth sip, the bitterness is gone. I also relish the benefit of warmed hands from encircling the ceramic mug. Soon, Fabian appears and announces his presence as he trots into the kitchen. Jose' picks up the small stoneware crocks from the placemat near the pantry that holds his food and water and fills them. Fabian devours the morsels.

"What do you want to eat, Ana? I have some oatmeal or cereal," Jose' offers.

I look at him and with my teeth slightly clinched and my brows raised, silently imploring him not to protest my answer. "Thank you, Jose'. But, I'm not hungry. I have always been kind of a sporadic breakfast person and today, well, I am just not hungry."

"I understand. I am like that, too. Just feel free to help yourself to anything. I will try to run by the market today to pick up some things," he tells me.

"I can do that for you," I say.

"You don't have to do that. But, I was going to ask you if you wanted to use my car. I would just need you to drop me off on campus and pick me up after 4:30. I could meet you at the Student Union."

"I really appreciate that. Are you sure?" I ask, not wanting to take advantage of him and his generous offer.

"Yeah, Ana, I am sure. I trust you with my car. I know you have things to do, so, please use my car," he responds.

"Okay. Thank you so much. What time do you need to be at school?"

"My first class is at nine," he says, glancing at the digital clock on his oven.

"Okay, then. We better leave soon, then, huh?"

"Yes. I'll grab my backpack and we can take off," he says as he kneels to stroke Fabian before straightening and walking to his bedroom.

I go back to the guest bedroom and collect my purse and jacket.

Jose' hands me the keys as we approach the carport. The seat is back too far and I have to adjust it and the rearview mirror.

I let Jose' out and head to Wal-Mart. It occurs to me that I haven't been in a Wal-Mart since, well, almost seven months or so. And I don't know why, but, well, maybe I do, I head for the Wal-Mart located in one of the tony neighborhoods of Portland. Before I left Portland, I would have opted for the first Wal-Mart I saw. _A Wal-Mart is a Wal-Mart is a Wal-Mart, right? _But now, I have driven past others to the Wal-Mart that caters to the upper crust, in the posh area of Portland. _Why do larger stores with wider isles, less crowded displays, better product selections, cleaner facilities, and more affluent co-shoppers matter to me now? I am tainted!_

My Subconscious, brow dotted with perspiration beads, wearing a hairnet and once-white, food-stained bibbed apron with plastic gloves, looks at me with disdain as she stands behind the stainless buffet in the soup kitchen doling out meals to the homeless. "Tsk-tsk," she utters as she shakes her head.

I head to the electronics section and take note of how this store displays their electronics. There are multiple round table-top display cases containing various products. They are well-lit and the light wood which surrounds the case is glossy and free of finger prints. I browse the selection of phones and find the pay-as-you-go kind of phone that I am looking for. I remove two of the $500 loadable Visa cards from the display so that I can have some available credit on a card.

The computers are displayed on eye-level shelving with technical descriptions readily available. I stroll back and forth, looking at each laptop carefully. I recall that it wasn't that long ago that I didn't even own a computer. I had to rely upon the computers at WSU or hijack Kate's which she never seemed to mind. And now, I am being selective and even a little disappointed that it won't be a MacBook Pro. _Who have I become? It's okay, you worked hard for your degree and you are a professional woman! You will have another Mac one day and it will be one that you bought for yourself._

I find a Dell that is silver and sleek. The screen seems big enough and it is thin and rather light. I don't know much about the other things like type of processor, amount of memory and hard drive storage. I think this is one that I would have bought when I was a student, if I could have afforded it. I buy it.

Back at Jose's', it occurs to me that I didn't ask him if he had Wi-Fi. _If not, maybe I can hop on an unsecured network of a neighbor. _I plop down on the striped sofa in the living room and remove the computer from the box. Stripping away the layers of packaging, I place the laptop on my knees and plug it in. The set-up is very easy and within a few steps, the computer is searching for a network. The first one on the list is "JR's Connection" and the padlock is open. _Jose' is so trusting. I am going to have to talk to him about securing his network. _Within a few keystrokes, I am connected to the internet. I suppress the urge to check my email, which is usually my first task of the day. I know I am going to have to deal with some things, but, not right now. I want to activate my phone.

I remove the phone from the packaging and follow the steps, connecting to the phone website. I use one of the Visa cards to load the phone with minutes. _I now have my own phone number_! I write the number down on a memo pad so that I don't forget it.

I am beginning to feels hunger pangs and decided to make myself of piece of toast. Jose's pantry is neatly organized with the canned food labels all facing the front, in Warhol-fashion. _Must be the artist in him. _I find the bread and place a slice in the toaster. I open the refrigerator and find the tub of butter. _Good, the real stuff. _I find a salad plate in the cabinet and return to the living room with my toast. I sit cross-legged on the sofa with my laptop open and begin my search in earnest.

On a search engine I type: Abortion providers Portland Oregon.

I scroll past the sponsored links and scan the list. I click on one and find that it is actually a website that is affiliated with a national organization to keep abortion legal. I click on the 'my state' portion and find that Oregon is one of the most liberal states in the country with few laws to restrict access to abortion. This is nothing I have ever researched before, so, I guess that is good to know.

I click on another link, and it appears to be some type of women's reproductive health website. There are multiple modules on the page and I click on the box that deals with pregnancy. I don't know why, but I click on the highlighted link that says: What you should know before you become pregnant.

The article begins by stating that one out of two pregnancies is unplanned. _Wow, I didn't know that. _I read about the importance of taking Folic acid supplement months before conceiving, as adequate amounts are necessary for healthy neural tube development which occurs in the early embryonic stage. Failure to have enough folic acid available for embryonic development can result in a number of catastrophic conditions related to the development of the brain and spinal cord. _Okay, well, I didn't do that and we all know about my poor nutritional habits. _I read further.

There are stern admonishments about consuming any amounts of alcohol or taking any medications during pregnancy. The article discusses fetal alcohol syndrome. Research is unable to determine when, in pregnancy, this can occur although it is believed to be early in the pregnancy and physicians are unsure what amount of alcohol it takes to do harm to the fetus. Doctors strongly urge pregnant women to totally abstain from alcohol during pregnancy. _Well, I didn't do that either and I got snot-slinging drunk several times_. I begin to feel queasy as I read about FAS and the devastation it can cause. Not only does it cause developmental problems, but FAS children often have unusual facial characteristics. I read way too long until I can't stomach another word.

_I don't know why I am so upset about reading this information. I am horrified. I was ready to have an abortion because of my situation and my impending divorce. Was I kidding myself that I had absolutely resolved to terminate my pregnancy? Was there still a chance that I might not have gone through with the abortion? Was I hoping for that? Was I hoping that Christian might find me and be able to do something to make up for how he treated me? Was I still holding out hope that Christian really wanted this baby? If I was, everything has changed now. All I can feel right now is ashamed. I feel like I have already abused and fucked up this life inside of me. I really fucked up so badly and I know that I could never live with myself if I harmed my baby. Every time I would look at my child suffering and struggling, I would be reminded of what I did to my baby. If I could have the abortion today, I would. I feel like I have something so damaged and in agony inside of me. Dear God, what have I done? I am a very bad person._

I find another site that is a legitimate abortion provider in Portland. The site is very informative and not somber, like I expected. It even kind of has a boutique feel to it as it states the clinic provides a number of other services for women besides abortion. I spend a fair amount of time reading and absorbing the information. I jot the number and address down.


End file.
